For Leo, entertainment wasn't just fun; it was a decompression chamber. Because his day job was so clinical and life-or-death, his leisure time was aggressively low-stakes:

At 17, Leo Park’s life was a constant exercise in code-switching. By 7:00 AM, he was "Dr. Park," a surgical resident at St. Jude’s who had fast-tracked through med school as a prodigy. By 7:00 PM, he was just Leo—a kid who still had to ask his mom if he could borrow the car. The Morning Scrub

He was a doctor when the world needed him, but tonight, he just wanted to be a fan.

He spent thousands on a vintage arcade setup in his basement. There were no consequences in Pac-Man —if you died, you just popped in another quarter.

As the crowd panicked and yelled for "an adult," Leo instinctively stepped forward. For a split second, he hesitated—he wanted to just be a kid at a concert. Then, the doctor took over. He cleared the space, checked her vitals, and gave orders with a quiet authority that stunned the surrounding teenagers.